


The Lens of My Eye (Autofocus)

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Domesticity, Kise ur a fool, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:05:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A drabble and short story series surrounding one Kise Ryouta and Kasamatsu Yukio.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lens of My Eye (Autofocus)

It should be shameful to think of managing to wake up at noon an accomplishment, but Ryouta can't find it in himself to be ashamed, even less so when he walks into the kitchen and sees Yukio-san. He's already dressed and reading, and has been, no doubt, up for several hours. Ryouta grins when he gives him a look; what used to be exasperation replaced with resigned acceptance. Kasamatsu Yukio has learned not to pick losing battles, and it's been a long time since he's tried to wake Ryouta up on a Saturday morning. 

He knows better than to try to talk to Yukio-san when he’s reading for class, so he takes it upon himself to forage for his own breakfast.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he says, humming like it isn’t ridiculous to be saying so at half past noon. 

He looks through the cupboards for a bowl and hopes that there’s a decent amount of cereal--a new habit he’s picked up since moving out on his own--to hold him over until Yukio-san feels hungry enough to cook them lunch. When they first moved near Yukio-san’s university, Ryouta tried his hand at cooking. He doesn’t think he’s seen Yukio-san run as quickly as he did when he threw the flame retardant blanket onto that flaming pot of curry.

Why Yukio-san had a flame retardant blanket, no one knows. 

“Life is so hard when your husband won’t cook for you!” he sighs. Ryouta reaches for the box of Captain Crunch (“Too expensive to be worth it,” said Yukio-san) and finds that it’s new and unopened.

He pauses. “Did you buy this?”

Yukio-san makes a noncommittal noise from where he sits. He doesn’t like having his concentration split, especially not when he’s reading. “Who else would have bought it?” he asks without really asking at all, which means it’s the last of that conversation.

It’s suddenly difficult to swallow in the kitchen, and Ryouta isn’t that hungry. He stares at the box and thinks about Yukio-san, how he’s going to school and working part time at the library, despite Ryouta’s insistence that he doesn’t need to.

_“It isn’t that big of a deal,” he said hotly. “Why can’t you ever just let me take care of you?” Ryouta had nothing to say to that._

Yukio-san, who’s going to school and working part time and coming home to study and waking up early to do it all over again, took the time to go out to the store and replace Ryouta’s nearly empty, _expensive_ Captain Crunch. He takes a minute to think about that and stares at the box, long enough that Yukio-san finally looks up from the book and frowns.

“Did I buy the wrong kind?”

Ryouta shakes his head and smiles.

There’s silence as Yukio-san scrutinizes him. Ryouta has long since worked through insecurities and fears that one day Yukio-san might feel differently, long since given up the notion that he needs to live waiting for the other shoe to drop. He’s learned the way Yukio-san smells, formed a routine where he’s accepted that the way Yukio-san wakes up before him in the morning and falls asleep next to him at night isn’t going to change. The clothes in their cabinets and the shampoos in the bathroom aren’t going away, so he isn’t sure why he’s choking up right now of all times.

“Something’s wrong,” Yukio-san guesses.

“No, it’s perfect,” he says. “You’re perfect.” He laughs for good measure, but it comes out all wrong, too high and giddy, even for him. It has Yukio-san raising a brow in concern.

“It’s just cereal, Ryouta.”

Right, it’s just cereal. “Yeah,” Ryouta agrees, and opens the box of Captain Crunch, trying to come up with the words to explain that it isn’t just cereal at all.

Yukio-san comes up next to him and runs a comforting hand through his hair. “You okay?” he asks.

Ryouta nods as Yukio-san pulls him into his arms. They both know that he doesn’t need words to tell Yukio-san that he’s happy, so he squeezes him tighter and stands there as long as Yukio-san will let him.

\----

\---

-

**Author's Note:**

> Cereal is a pretty uncommon and expensive breakfast food in Japan. Kise is a spoiled little brat. The title of the entire fic is from "Kokuhaku" by Angela Aki.


End file.
